


As Graceful as a Swan

by the_delusional_fan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, I apologize for poorly representing the entire Shiratorizawa VBC, Light Angst, Suffering, if you can even call it that, vomiting/emetophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_delusional_fan/pseuds/the_delusional_fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in Shiratorizawa’s training camp: An extended theory as to why Ushijima has no current concern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Graceful as a Swan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raggirare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggirare/gifts).



> [My inspiration and drive.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9qDetBn56U&list=PLPxYY6fHpnRJc1qbyOLZ2alPn9EZViidl&index=1)
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> Special thanks to [Angie](http://bergliot-manner.tumblr.com/post/116170600545/sleepy-shiratorizawa) for letting me use their sleeping headcanons, [Kat](http://yamaguchissoggyfrenchfries.tumblr.com) who screamed about half of this fic to me, and [Sue](https://twitter.com/arokitty) for helping me get through this.
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> This is the longest thing I’ve ever written. Please enjoy your gift Raggirare.

 

* * *

 

 

23:00

It was the worst of times, it was the best of times. It was one of the few times Ushijima felt the pang of regret in his life. Sleep for the super ace during this training camp has become a mere concept amidst Kawanishi’s heavy snores. With Tendou's arms clamped around his torso and a steady trail of Goshiki's slobber coating his feet, Ushijima stares up at the ceiling silently wondering what he had done to deserve this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

2:00 (21 hours earlier)

The first signs of regret come with a swift kick from Yamagata into Ushijima's side. The ace had been lying on his stomach drifting on the cusp of sleep—aware of his state and yearning for slumber—but he was certainly awake now. He bites his lip, suppressing the yelp trying to escape his now bruised lungs.

Not wanting to receive another blow, Ushijima rolls off his futon, on to his back, and straight into the arms of the sleeping monster known as Tendou Satori.

Ushijima silently curses his poor choice of movement when Tendou's arms pull him in with a vice grip. He weighs the pros and cons and decides that rolling back into Yamagata’s hit zone and receiving a few bruises while gaining maneuverability was better than crushed lungs.

Much to his own horror, Tendou's hold on him tightens when he attempts to struggle out of his grasp. He should be stronger than the boy clinging to his side, but sleep seems to grant him cuddling powers straight from the pits of hell. Breathing is becoming quite difficult and Ushijima wonders if he'll live to see the sun.

As if the constriction wasn’t enough, a horrendous sound erupts from the corner of the room. Ushijima immediately recognizes the noise as Kawanishi's snoring, which sounds something akin to a growling bear on a rusty swing set. He must have rolled onto his back. Again. For the fifth time that night.

If only Ushijima had just his snores to deal with. The problem could be easily solved by rolling Kawanishi onto his side, but unfortunately for Ushijima, there is nothing he can do to push the blond over and he is stuck suffering from an assault on both his ears and body.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ushijima spots movement of some kind.  He hopes that Kawanishi’s obnoxious snoring has been enough to finally wake someone.

For once his pleas are heard and he sees Semi groggily making his way across the room. He tries to call out to the setter, but Tendou's fierce grip only grants him a pathetic wheeze. Tendou continues to tighten his hold until Ushijima flails his free arm half in response to the asphyxiation and half in hopes of grabbing the setter’s attention. Still, Semi is unable to hear his frenzied thumping sounds over Kawanishi’s deafening snores.

Ushijima stops waving his arm when he notices that the corners of his vision are going dark. Dread fills the spiker as he concludes that a change in lighting isn’t responsible for the darkness—he’s running out of oxygen. In his final moments of consciousness, Ushijima reaches out to his potential savior who once again is completely oblivious to his desperation.

Ushijima realizes that this is it. Never giving death much thought, he hadn’t suspected that volleyball would indirectly end his life. His last memories are going to consist of a dark room, a burning sensation in his lungs, and inhumane snoring. How pitiful. As he fades away he thinks to himself at least he’s finally getting his long awaited slumber.

 

 

* * *

 

 

6:00

The buzz of the alarm tears Ushijima out of his hug-induced coma. Tendou's arms are no longer around him and he inhales deeply, stretching as much as his body allows him to. He can feel the throb of his injuries from Yamagata and Tendou encasing his torso, but he is thankful to be alive.

He estimates he got around four hours of sleep. It's not ideal, but it's sufficient. He knows he can make it through the day—he has done it before and he can do it again. However, thinking about how difficult the workout will be now makes him a little queasy. He also ponders why this always occurs each and every training camp without fail.

As a first year Tendou too had disturbed his sleep his first night at a high school training camp, but by constricting his stomach and giving him what he believed to be a slight hernia instead of coma. The following night Yamagata had trapped him a corner at approximately two in the morning and kicked him until his body was into much pain to sleep for the rest of the night.

And the cycle never stopped. A senior of his, known for his gratingly loud snores, was immediately replaced the next school year by the banshee noises of little Kawanishi. It was as if someone intentionally wanted him to suffer through these camps no matter what. One time, he was even up for 48 hours straight. Especially after that life changing experience, he thought he had become used to the nightly abuse, but this near death experience opened his eyes to a whole new set of awful outcomes.

Ushijima rubs his temples trying to rid his thoughts of those horrid memories then turns his head to his side to take in the aftermath from last night's sleep. Shirabu, as always, is tangled in his sheets, his hair wiggling out the top self-made cocoon. The boy is clearly struggling to untangle himself, but a foreign limb is preventing his freedom. Tendou yawns loudly and snuggles closer to Shirabu and a muffled protest erupts from the bundle. As always, it’s an amusing sight to behold and Ushijima even finds it a bit comforting to know that someone else is suffering as he did.

It doesn’t take long for him to hear the familiar agitated steps of Semi approaching the scene. Ushijima watches as Semi, bags under his eyes, hair a strew, stares down at Tendou less than pleased. "Satori get up. You're crushing Shirabu." His voice is raspy and harsh.

"Just five more minutes mom," Tendou mumbles, pulling Shirabu impossibly closer.

Semi kicks him in the back.

"Oww! Eita-kuuuun." Tendou whines rolling over to look up at Semi with a hurt expression.

"Quit it with that face. You almost killed Wakatoshi last night with that death embrace of yours and it seems like you’re still trying to claim a life. How many times am I supposed to pry you off someone until you get it through your skull?!" Semi wastes no time grabbing Tendou’s wrists and dragging him away from the bundle of sheets.

"But you've hit the same place twice now. How am I supposed to perform with a bruised back?" Tendou complains, unfazed by Semi’s question and the high-pitched squeak his skin is making as it slides over the wooden floor.

Semi pauses and sinisterly angles his head to glare at Tendou in a way that makes him fear for his life. "Exceptionally like the coach expects us to." Keeping his glower trained on Tendou, he drops the other's arms and then stomps off to wake other members.

"Cold and cruel as usual." Tendou sighs at the ceiling while draping an arm over his eyes.

Their exchange stirs other fragments of Ushijima’s hellish memories from other training camps, particularly the implication of Semi being his savior. He recalls that when he first fell prey to Tendou’s unholy sleeping patterns, Semi had saved him too. And even after he freed him from Tendou’s painful constriction, Semi massaged his stomach until the pain had mostly faded.

Ushijima is certain he’s going to thank Semi for his help just as he did back then.

Shirabu struggles out of his sheets, crawling on his knees.  He tries to stand but he stumbles like newborn deer.

Ushijima is somewhat concerned. Usually Shirabu gets up with no problem after being tangled up in sheets and limbs. If their setter is injured, he won't be able to perform his duties that are vital to the team's offense. Ushijima rises from his futon and approaches the other careful not to step on the half-awake Shibata.

"Shirabu?"

Shirabu looks up at him and their eyes meet. The setter shifts his gaze immediately, humiliation extremely evident.

"My limbs are numb from the constriction..." he grumbles towards the ground. "I'll be fine."

Though the other isn't looking at him, Ushijima nods at the setter. Shirabu forces himself up into an awkward stance and Ushijima holds out his arm for the other to steady himself on.

“Thank you.”

While Shirabu regains his balance, Ushijima focuses his attention on the rest of the team: Reon is busying himself with waking the other members of their team. He throws a pillow at Yamagata who thrashes a few times before finally opening his eyes. Goshiki is sitting up in his futon, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as his signature bowlcut sticks up in all directions, completely defying gravity. There is a large spit stain on the side of his pillow. Kawanishi is already in his workout clothes and is doing his odd stretching routine in the corner.

Ushijima inhales deeply as Shirabu finally rights himself. Everything is in order.

 

\-----

 

Ushijima made a mistake when he failed to prioritize hygiene the second he woke up. As usual, their assigned restroom was overflowing with people rushing to get ready.

Toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, Ushijima maneuvers his way through the crowd in search of open sink. By the time he reaches one, several of his teammates have accidentally elbowed his sides, further agitating the injuries he sustained a few hours earlier. He clenches his teeth and hopes the bruises won’t take even longer to heal.

Though he thought his morning couldn’t get any worse, he nearly jumps back into the wall behind him the second he sees the abhorrent reflection, right next to his own squeezing toothpaste onto a toothbrush. Ushijima suspiciously squints at what he hopes is a human. “Eita…?”

"Huh? What's up Wakatoshi?"

Semi looks awful. Far worse up close than he did from afar. Did he sleep even less than himself? The bags under his eyes are more prominent at this distance, they even have a purple tint to them. He seems almost gaunt, several shades paler than usual. His lips are puffy and cracked they look almost comical with his frizzy hair that's jutting out in the worst way possible. The best way Ushijima could describe his look was one of a sad, unemployed clown’s.

“Wakatoshi you’re staring.”

Ushijima quickly diverts his eyes from the reflection and composes himself. He shouldn’t be gawking at the man who saved his life. "Thank you for last night."

Ushijima does his best to mask his surprise as Semi attempts to force his expression into one that displays delight. His smile is frightening. "Of course! Any opportunity to give Satori a beating is a good one." The setter gives him a few heavy pats on the shoulder before popping his toothbrush in his mouth.

Ushijima wonders why there must always be a victim of Tendou’s aggressive sleeping patterns. Perhaps he should hold a team meeting and convince everyone to pool in money for a body pillow to satiate his cuddling needs. While he’s at it maybe they can also purchase ropes to tie Yamagata and his militant limbs up during the night—of course there’s the chance that there will be a midnight emergency that makes the ropes a setback, but Ushijima is a very light sleeper and Yamagata should be able to wake him verbally without much of a struggle. They’ll get a surgical mask to catch Goshiki’s spit and nasal strips to help Kawanishi’s breathing too. (Kawanishi may need ropes as well to help keep him on his side.) And then he can finally catch a decent amount of sleep during one of these godforsaken training camps for once in his life.

Ushijima’s rather brilliant train of thought is interrupted by more bickering. It just really isn’t his day today.

"Satori what the fuck." Semi's voice is less raspy now, but it’s filled with just as much bite. The setter watches, appalled, as Tendou dispenses a tube of toothpaste onto his tongue. "You can't just squeeze toothpaste directly into your mouth!"

Tendou ignores Semi with a loud hum and starts brushing his teeth.

"That's even worse than putting toothpaste on the brush and then getting it wet." He's not talking to Tendou anymore. His eyes wander and fix themselves on no spot in particular as he ponders yet another one of Tendou's quirks. "I've been training with you for years how have I not noticed this?" He looks like a madman, his hair strewn in odd directions, his agitated expression made worse by his eye bags, all on top of speaking to the sink.

“It can’t get any of us sick so there’s no need to be making this much noise over it,” Shirabu interrupts rudely.

“You’re defending him?” Semi turns his deranged gaze onto the other setter.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he returns even coarser than Semi.

Semi looks like he’s about to blow a fuse. It’s barely 6:15. Ushijima is not in the mood to deal with a fight this early on.

"Has anyone seen my phone?"

Yamagata peaks his head around the corner, his bedhead drooping in front of his eyes as he’s met with a chorus of ‘no’s and ‘nopes’. The question also catches Semi’s attention and he forgets about the little spat he was engaged in. “Seriously? It’s the first day and you’ve already lost it? This has to be a record of some kind.”

Yamagata chuckles while looking Semi up and down. “Well at least my looks won’t warrant a record in hideousness.”

Semi smirks. “Touché.”

Relief washes over Ushijima as Semi resumes brushing his teeth without giving as much as a glance to Shirabu. Yamagata saves more than just balls that's for sure. Ushijima will forgo the ropes. There must be something else to keep him in one place.

Although, Ushijima is somewhat off-put by Semi’s behavior--the setter has been a bit more on edge than usual lately. He’ll definitely confront him about this later. (Preferably in an area that’s not this cramped.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

7:00

It's breakfast now and it's a good of time as any to discuss Semi's behavior. Ushijima places his tray down and scans the food bar.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. Semi. Just the person he needs to see.

"Don't get too much ok? I got something for ya."

Ushijima nods at the other relieved that he was able to get back some color back into his face after grooming. His lips are back to their normal size and are only a little dry and his hair has settled to its usual funk.

"Be right back." Semi pats his shoulder and slinks off into a different room.

Ushijima loads his tray with two rice bowls instead of three and sparingly takes seven slices of bacon, three sausages, and a banana along with a small bowl of miso soup then heads to a table. He seats himself next to Reon on the bench's edge and waits for Semi's arrival.

"Hey."

Semi sets the dish in front of Ushijima who looks up at the former curiously. "For helping me with that project." Semi rubs the back of his head and averts his eyes.

The gesture is really nice. He wasn't expecting it in the slightest. It's a shame that this pleasant, rather calm, exchange is ruined by unnecessary yapping.

"What?! Eita-kun where's my appreciation meal for being the bestest friend and person in the whole world?" Tendou flings his hands up dramatically drawing an irritated huff from Semi.

"Freaks that put toothpaste directly into their mouths don't deserve anything at all." he replies curtly.

“Why must you hurt me so.” Tendou feigns hurt and clutches his heart.

Ushijima ignores their banter and samples the omelet. Something about it tastes off, but it’s not enough to negate the overall flavor of the dish. He chalks up slight pungency to combination of spices he isn’t used to and finishes the meal in seconds.

“So, I guess you liked it then?” Semi’s giving him a sheepish smile. Ushijima notes that he looks rather nice when he’s not ready to burst a vein.

“I did.” It’s all the confirmation Ushijima needs to give him. Semi has known him long enough to know that the simple answer means much more and his smile becomes genuine.

Ushijima wonders if he was wrong about Semi being more aggravated than usual. Pondering his source of err, theorizes that his severe lack of sleep must be placing unnecessary thoughts in his head. He decides to drown those thoughts out along with the breakfast chatter by consuming the rest of his meal.

 

 

* * *

 

 

10:00

“You’re tossing to Wakatoshi too much, Shirabu,” Semi criticizes. He stands next to the other setter who has just finished his 3rd practice set this morning emerging victorious as always. They’re on their 10 minute break and Semi wants to use that time to help Shirabu in the right direction.

“You can rely on your other teammates you know.”

Shirabu wants to roll his eyes. His advice, per usual, is unnecessary. The way Shirabu plays now is most efficient so there’s no need to alter it at all. Semi should at least know that given is lost spot on the starting team to him. “I am aware of that.”

Shirabu doesn’t bother to look at the other. Instead, he picks up a nearby water bottle and hands it to his captain who gives him a small thanks.

Semi, irked by his snobbishness and partialness to Ushijima, responds more sternly. “I’m just saying, it’s kind of weird that you feel the need to go through so much length for one person.”

Ushijima doesn’t really have a problem with it. It’s his goal to be the strongest, most reliable player and he has a setter that recognizes his ability and desires to exploit it as best he can. The water bottles, towels, and company he gives are a pleasant bonus as well. He wonders why Semi is on Shirabu’s case for what he believes are valiant efforts.

“I wasn’t the one who made a meal especially for him though.” Shirabu spits back.

Ushijima becomes even more puzzled by their tones. Giving food to others was a good thing. He can't understand why the two are busy tearing into each other while wasting precious recovery time.  He addresses the both of them. “It’s fine.”

Ushijima thinks that his intrusion should resolve their quibble.

And it does. Semi changes the subject immediately. “Shirabu, can you hand me that please.” He points to a bottle on the ground about a foot away from the other setter.

Shirabu takes his sweet time looking from his senior and to the bottle. Semi clears his throat impatiently when Shirabu raises an eyebrow, skeptical of his request. “Do you mean the water bottle?”

Semi rolls his eyes. “What else could I possibly mean?”

Shirabu scoffs at his sass. He’d much rather be scolded for berating Goshiki‘s overzealous behavior than help Semi do something he was just too lazy to do himself. And Goshiki was really getting on his nerves that match.

Shirabu, straight-faced, picks up the bottle, stares extensively at the other, and tosses it away from him. The bottle makes a soft clunking noise as it rolls into the empty court next to them, Semi too stunned to react to it.

“Oh. My bad.” Shirabu takes his own bottle and leisurely drinks from it before continuing. “I guess you’ll have to get it yourself.”

Ushijima feels his stomach turning as he watches Semi’s face twist with rage. He can tell that today is going to be a very, very long day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

12:00

Ushijima slides lazily down the tree trunk until he’s seated snugly with his tray full of about eight six-inch sandwiches on his lap and a jug of water by his side. Somehow he has made it all the way to lunch without any major setbacks. It must be Semi’s meal at work.

Tendou plops his tray onto the ground next to him and then drops to his belly. He rubs himself against the cool grass, enjoying its softness as he stretches. He wiggles up onto his hips in front of his tray and hums. Ushijima, almost reflexively, places his hand on the other’s head to stroke his hair. Tendou closes his eyes and leans into the touch with a lazy smile almost purring. If he didn’t know better, Ushijima would believe that Tendou was part cat.

Reon, Semi, Yamagata, and Shirabu join them shortly after, each settling comfortably under the shade of the tree. They silently agree to first relax first and eat their meals later as a gentle wind flows around them.

Ushijima is more than pleased by Goshiki’s suggestion to eat here. He looks around for his junior to thank him, but he’s yet to show up to his own arrangement. Only Kawanishi hasn't arrived. Where exactly is he?

“Ushijima-san!” Goshiki’s voice cuts through the tranquility.

Hearing his name, Ushijima surveys the area, unsure of where the call came from. He becomes confused when he can’t find the body to go with it.

“Up here.”

Ushijima cranes his neck upwards to find Goshiki smirking above him in the branches of the tree. He’s surprised for many reasons--one of them being the tray that appears to sit securely on a branch by Goshiki’s head.

“I finally found a way to get  _above_  you!” Goshiki huffs proudly, satisfied with the success of his scheme.

Tendou snorts while the rest of team sighs, mildly peeved at his at his antics.

“Congratulations. Now will you stop with these petty competitions?” Shirabu asks.

“Hey now, let the little guy have his fun. It won’t pain you too much will you?” Semi cuts in before Goshiki can respond.

“He’s always like this when we practice. He should learn to calm down every once in a while since it’s so annoying.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot. You just have a problem with anyone enjoying themselves.”

“I do not!”

“It’s like you feed off of misery.”

Tendou interrupts their squabble with a whine. “You two have been bickering since the crack of dawn. Can’t you stop it please? It’s getting real annoying.”

“Yeah you guys really need to chill. Satori of all people is calling you annoying. I’m pretty sure that’s a sign,” Yamagata adds.

“Hayato not you too!” Tendou chucks a small piece of bread at the libero who chortles when it completely misses.

Ushijima feels a headache coming on and he’s not sure if it’s from the fighting or if it’s related to the nausea he experienced earlier during practice matches.

“You doing alright?” Reon bumps Ushijima with his shoulder. “I know you didn’t sleep very well.”

Ushijima looks away, displeased that his weakness is showing.

“It’s a shame I can’t let you borrow my sleeping abilities,” Reon chuckles softly.

Ushijima really wishes he could have them. It was one of the few things he’s envious of and for good reason. He slept like a unmovable boulder. Ushijima has had to carry Reon outside in the middle of the night during a fire drill because the alarm wouldn’t even make him stir. His body is fixed to a tight schedule that’s perfectly in tune with the theorized circadian rhythm. The only thing that seems to break this uncanny ability is his own alarm.

“It is.” Ushijima agrees solemnly.

Reon smiles and rubs his back.

 

\------

 

Ushijima is stuffing the ninth sandwich down his throat when Yamagata stands to brush the crumbs off his stomach and legs.

(He ate the extra sandwich when Goshiki accidently dropped it onto his head. It was already in his mouth by the time Goshiki was apologizing and pleading for the thing to be returned to him.)

“I’m going to go look for my phone. Does anyone want to come with me?”

“I will.” Ushijima figures it’s the best option since it takes him away from a potential skirmish and will distract him from his headache. Yamagata has saved him yet again. Instead of ropes to limit his sleeping mobility, he thinks a solitary tent should do.

 

\-----

 

“I swear I brought it. It was in my bag. I  _know_  it’s here.” Yamagata is pulling at his hair in frustration.

Along with Ushijima, he has searched just about every crevice of their room twice. They looked under pillows, in futons, and even in some bags. Ushijima tried calling it, but apparently Yamagata a turned it on airplane mode to save battery.

“Just where the hell did I put the damn thing? Or did Satori hide it again...?”

Their hunt, leadless at this point, is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Kawanishi between them. “Any luck?”

Yamagata flinches at the closeness of his voice. “Holy shit don’t sneak up on us like that.”

Ushijima is undisturbed and answers the blocker. “No, not in the slightest.”

“Well if this search is going nowhere, would you care to join me?” Kawanishi

Yamagata eyes the boy suspiciously. He didn’t show up to Goshiki’s picnic so he shouldn’t know that they’re looking for his phone. Unless he overheard him groaning about it before he revealed himself...

“What would we do?” Ushijima responds, wholly trusting. Yamagata worries that his lack of suspicion will get him into trouble one day. He is also offended that these arrangements are being made without his input. He doesn’t object to the offer though--this search is going nowhere.

“You’ll see.” Kawanishi drones.

“Alright. Let’s go.” Yamagata figures that he should give his consent since he is to be apart of this change in plans.

The lanky blond leads them into a hall that is generally unused during their stay. Yamagata is unsettled by its emptiness and the loud echoes of their footsteps. He wants to start a light conversation to fill the void, but his mind draws up blank. It’s not like the other two are going to start one anytime soon, so he gives up and does his best to ignore the unease that’s in the back of his skull.

Kawanishi stops when they’ve almost reach the end of the hall. He turns to open a door with a loud creak into a dark room only lit by a few candles.

Yamagata prays that no one can hear his heart frantically pounding in his chest.

“Come in.”

Yamagata’s hand finds a fistful of Ushijima’s shirt as he follows him into the room that he hopes won’t be the last he’s ever in. As soon as they’re a few steps into it, Kawanishi shuts the door behind them. Yamagata gulps and his grip on the fabric tightens until Kawanishi seats himself on a mat in front of the candle. He finally releases his hold when the blocker drums his hands on two mats before his own.

Without hesitation, Ushijima walks over to sit on a mat. Yamagata almost squeaks when he realizes that what’s essentially his bodyguard in this situation has left his side. Unsure of what to expect, he quickly finds his place on the opposing mat, Even though it’s probably coincidental, he’s still unnerved that this room was prepared for exactly three people. And Kawanishi’s demeanor in general. Did he plan this out?

Kawanishi yawns and stretches his arms out. “We’ll be doing Yoga.”

“This should really help us relax then, right Wakatoshi?” Yamagata looks to Ushijima for comfort.

“Yes, it should.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

13:15

Training is hell, but it usually isn’t this hellish for Shiratorizawa’s star player. He cuts his roadwork short and does only one extra kilometer as opposed to his usual four when trying to buy time for his less conditioned teammates.

By the time he’s back inside the gym, a nasty cramp has settled on his stomach.  He has to steady himself on a wall since the pain is almost immobilizing.

Ushijima drags his palm across his forehead. There’s so much sweat. He doesn’t remember it being this hot out.

“Wakatoshi you look unwell,” his coach comments.

Ushijima immediately straightens himself out and hopes his slight grimace passes as his resting face since he has been told it looks mildly terrifying. “It’s fine.”

Washijou eyes his player skeptically and Ushijima silently scolds himself for the inapt response. Wanting to deter his growing concern Ushijima starts his usual set of 30 burpees before he can press further.

Burpees were a bad idea—his abdomen is screaming from the intense cramping and Ushijima is barely able to hold it together.  By the time his teammates have returned, He’s drenched in an alarming amount of sweat. Still he finds the strength to teeter over to them while they’re being grouped off for practice against each other.

“Wakatoshi you’ll be with them.” Washijou points over to a group of six containing Shirabu, Kawanishi, and Shibata. Ushijima doesn’t even nod at his coach. He just kind of bobs his head to the side and does his best to avoid eye contact as he makes his way towards his assigned team.

“I’ll be sure to win against you this match.” Goshiki challenges him, his chest puffed out and eyes lit brightly.

He looks so confident, Ushijima believes he has a chance. It will be a good match against a worthy opponent. He musters what little energy he has left to give him firm assent. “Okay. Good luck.”

For some reason the spiker looks outright irritated rather than inspired. It reminds him of when he compliments Oikawa and expects acceptance of said compliment, maybe a smile, but gets a string of curses and a nasty glare instead. Perhaps his tone was off due to his sickness. Ushijima decides not to dwell on it further since the match is about to start.

 

\-----

 

“I hope you can use him properly this time.” Semi eyes Shirabu quizzically with his hands on his hips.

“Of course I will, Semi-san.” It’s hard not to ignore his attitude as Shirabu bows slightly more out of mockery than courtesy. Semi keeps his composure for the most part by clenching his fists and grinding his teeth together. (His underling just had to be a brat didn’t he?) Then he makes the mistake of looking directly at Shirabu one last time. It’s only for a moment, but Semi can clearly see the finger Shirabu gives him along with one of the bitchiest faces he has seen yet. “You motherf-”

“Eiiita-kun~!”

Tendou firmly places his hand on Semi’s shoulder. “We’re about to play against Wakatoshi-kun and we’re gonna need our best setter to stand a chance.”

Semi lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah.” Escalating their skirmish wasn’t about to do them any good.

Tendou gives him a wide smile and a few pats on the back before assuming his position on the court. Semi hates to admit it, but Tendou is pretty good at keeping people in check when it comes down to it. In a way he feels indebted to the guy, even with his nonsenses, for putting up with his own pissiness. He breathes in deeply once more, collecting himself, and heads to his own spot.

It’s his serve first and despite his silent agreement with Tendou, he’ll still be sure to make Shirabu eat dirt.

Shirabu is a pretty average player by himself. He could even be classified as below average if he were on a different team—his height isn’t much and his physical strength and abilities are limited as well and Semi plans to exploit these weaknesses to their fullest.

He flashes a wicked grin at Shirabu while bouncing the ball before running into his jump. He slams down on the ball, hard, sending it a ways in front of the rival setter. Shirabu barely manages to receive it and with a loud grunt, he sends the ball back over the net. The ball is easily received and passed to Semi who sets the ball for Goshiki who scores with his signature straight spike.

“Yeah did you see that?!” Goshiki beams right at Semi.

“Tsutomu that was pretty impressive. Ace worthy even.” Semi grins at the other and gives him a sound smack on his shoulder. Goshiki’s smile widens and Shirabu has just about had it.

“Don’t encourage him too much.” he cuts into their mini celebration with a scowl.

Semi shoots back a haughty smirk in response and savors the aggravation that distorts the other setter’s face. It feels good to see his opponent look so damn salty. “Let’s get the next one too!”

Semi serves just as viciously as he did the first time. He aims higher, at Shirabu’s head, and the ball speeds towards its target like a missile. Semi would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of the control over that serve. After realizing the ball’s path, Shirabu dodges and it slams into the ground.

Another point goes to Semi’s side.

“Don’t just get out of the way! Receive the damn ball with your face if you have to you nincompoop!!!” Washijou almost jumps out from his seat. It’s now Shirabu’s turn to clench his fists and grind his teeth. Semi is too busy basking in the other setter’s misery to hear Goshiki’s question about the strange word the coach used at the end of his command. Yamagata covers for him though.

“It means idiot.”

“Oh!”

Goshiki’s exclamation brings Semi’s attention back to his side.

His next serve doesn’t go as well. Though it’s still difficult to receive, Shibata manages to cover for Shirabu. Semi internally curses and prepares for the attack that is coming.

Shirabu positions himself carefully and makes contact with the ball. He pushes it up, away, and towards the desired contact point for Ushijima who’s already running towards the net. He can’t wait to revel in Semi’s frustration when his ace makes it painfully clear which setting style for their team is the best. However, the gleeful sneer on his face quickly morphs into bewilderment when Ushijima jumps short of his spike, the neatly set ball barely grazing his fingers and falling to the ground.

Washijou voices his own thoughts. “What the hell was that?!” He actually jumps onto his feet this time.

Shirabu quickly moves over to the spiker with much concern. He draws close to the other though he doesn’t dare touch him at first. “Ushijima-san are you alright?”

 

\------

 

There's too much saliva in his mouth his stomach feels wretched.

"-jima-san?”

Hearing the fragment of his name, Ushijima shifts his head towards its source. It’s Shirabu. He briefly makes eye contact with the setter as he experiences a surreal sensory overload. Everything is too loud at once. Though he can hear their voices, his brain fails to make sense of the syllables and they meld into a cacophony that reverberates harshly through his skull. Not only sounds, but the stench of sweat, the bright lights, the feel of his own clothes— they’re all unbearable.

He wants to respond. He thinks he tried to respond. There's just too much spit in his mouth and too many other things bombarding his senses that are preventing his brain from properly functioning.

“Ushijima-san!” The ace swallows hard finally noticing the hand tugging at his arm. He wonders how long the other had been trying to elicit a response. He opens his mouth to respond but only a cough escapes. His hand flies up to cover his mouth as he gags on the excessive saliva.

“What’s wrong!?”

What’s wrong with him indeed. Failing his teammates like this and being so weak in front of them all. Somehow that thought makes him even sicker.

Feeling the final surge of nausea set in, Ushijima makes a beeline for the nearest trash bin. His hands clamp the rim of the bin as the wave of sickness rolls up and through him. His stomach violently contracts inward causing his torso to jerk forward and his mouth to spew out the majority of his lunch into the container. Ushijima gasps for air as he stares at the half-digested meal trickling down through the waste which has the nastiest orange hue he has ever seen in his life. He squints at particularly odd clump of vomit.

Is that bacon?

It sure is.

He heaves forward again and vomits ups even more lunch. Again and again and again until more bits of bacon and other breakfast goods come up too. At this point, Ushijima is convinced he’s throwing up dinner from the night before.

“Hey hey. Take it easy there.” Reon’s voice cuts through the unpleasantness like light through a stormy cloud. The gentle touch on his shoulder that follows feels just as angelic and it’s enough to distract him slightly from the pain still rippling through his abdomen. For the umpteenth time, Reon has come to his aid. He pats Ushijima softly and rubs circles over the expanse of his back, relieving him even more. Truly, he is a reliable friend and teammate.

“Thank you...” Ushijima’s voice comes out less hoarse than he expected. Still, he’s embarrassed by his weakened state and the puke-strung spit that refuses to stop falling from his mouth.

“It’s nothing. Take this.” Reon hands the other an open water bottle which he gratefully accepts with a small swig. When he’s finished, Reon takes the bottle back and gives him a towel. Ushijima wishes he could express his gratitude even more to the other while he wipes the acidic slime from his face.

“Can you stand?”

Ushijima hangs the soiled towel on the trash bin and shifts his weight to his feet. Though he still hurts, he’s able to support himself without doubling over. “I believe so.”

Reon nods and then slides his arm around Ushijima’s waist. “Here we go.”

As Reon pulls him up, Ushijima wraps his arm around Reon’s neck. Just this once he’ll let someone else be strong for him he thinks.

“Ahem.”

Washijou is standing to the side of them with a chillingly calm expression, his composure unsettling to both Ushijima and Reon. The last time he was like this, the entire team had to run laps until they dropped. He addresses Reon first. “Take him to the infirmary will you?”  

“Of course.”

Satisfied with his response, Washijou shifts his hawkish gaze to Ushijima who inhales deeply as he anticipates his coach’s wrath. “I expect 50 suicides to make up for that dizzard of a spike when you recover.”

“Yes sir.” He’s careful to not show his relief.

 

\--------

 

Semi bites his lip as he watches Washijou approached the hunched figures of Ushijima and Reon. He feels guilty for some reason—like his desire to taunt Shirabu somehow spawned this disaster. The setter reasons it couldn’t be that though. It, but he continues to ponder this uneasiness until it dawns on him.

“Oh shit I think it’s my fault.” he says out loud. He clamps a hand over his mouth when he realizes his mistake, but it’s too late for it to go unnoticed.

“What makes you say that?” Shirabu’s looking at him in disbelief.

A mini crowd gathers around him, waiting for an answer, but Semi can’t bring himself to look them in the eyes. Remorse wells up in him as he nervously runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. Its dampness feels just as gross as he does. He turns to face away from the others, wholly embarrassed of his blunder.

“That omelet I gave him… it was about a week old.”

It’s completely silent. Semi feels their astonished and disappointed looks crawling up his spine and he regrets ever considering Ushijima’s help for that project. If he could go back in time, he’d of just done the damn thing by himself to avoid this culpability.

Yamagata breaks the uncomfortable stillness. “Eita I expect this kind of stuff from Satori, but you?”

“I-I didn’t mean to.” He really didn’t. He just wanted to return the favor to a good friend, but somehow he managed to screw that up too.

“I can’t believe you poisoned Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou joins Yamagata in his badgering.  Semi decides not to respond to him since the other isn’t exaggerating at all.

“How could you," Kawanishi dead pans. An underclassman chewing him out was uncalled for however.

“I don’t need lip from you too Kawanishi.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

15:00

He’s been lying in the infirmary for a little over an hour now. His stomach pains haven’t improved much and he has vomited a few more times.  

 

He's been given some crackers to help settle his stomach, but even water induces a fit of upchucking.

Ushijima is silently thankful for being left by himself. He can roll back and forth on the cot groaning in agony without completely tarnishing his position as captain and ace. He's supposed to be infallibly strong for his team and yet here he is clutching his stomach, relatively immobilized, like a frail child. No one should ever see him like this.

Eventually he manages to stomach the medicine he had been given to alleviate the pain. But only after vomiting until only water and a strange slimy substance came up. As he lies on his back, rubbing his belly, he feels the medicine finally kick in. He should be able to resume practice soon. Following a brief nap of course.

Ushijima allows his eyes to flutter shut so he can take in the sensation of nothing as best as he can. He’s been in pain for so long that this state of neutrality feels heavenly. A sigh slips through his lips and his body completely relaxes.

 

He’s been resting for a while when he hears the door open softly.

"Hey… I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

It’s Semi. Ushijima cracks open his eyes. “Eita.”

“Oh good you’re awake". The setter moves to the side of the cot. “I just came to apologize.”

Ushijima, confused, shifts himself to better face the other. “What are you apologizing for?"

"The eggs I gave you this morning They were kinda old and-"

"So that was the strange taste."

"You tasted it? Geez Wakatoshi why did you keep eating it?"

Ushijima is sitting upright now. "Aside from that discrepancy it was good. Also, it'd be rude to dispose of the gift you made."

Semi strains from rubbing his temples since Ushijima probably would've still eaten the omelette even if he knew it would make him this sick. The thought is a little flattering though.

"I'm also apologizing for my poor behavior. It's been a setback for the team I know." Semi begins to pace around the room.

"It's just been hard y'know. Getting one-upped by a scrawny guy a year younger than you.” He pauses and puts his hands to his head.

“And it doesn't help that he can be a real brat sometimes." His hands are running over his forehead then over and through his hair. He’s trying to find the right words as his flattened hair slowly springs back up.

"I suppose these kinds of feelings will pass. After all I know exactly why Shirabu is better suited for our team.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft.

"I don't really regret my choice, but I miss being able to set for you guys and just being on the court. I wish could be better."  Semi turns to look at the other and Ushijima immediately notices the glassy quality to his eyes. He’s about to cry.

"Eita," Ushijima interrupts. He can’t stand to see his teammate and friend, who has been with him since middle school, berate himself for his performance that has been excellent since the day they met. Though he’s correct in his assertion that Shirabu is better for this team, he shouldn’t dismiss his skills as an individual player so readily. "You are an invaluable member of Shiratorizawa and nothing can change that."

Semi feels the hint of a blush creep up his cheeks. The praise, a rarity much appreciated, is borderline embarrassing in its frankness.

"Unless you are injured I suppose," Ushijima considers.

Semi feels a sudden kick to his gut. Ushijima certainly had a way with words--making his heart soar and then crash with those wonderfully sincere yet backhanded compliments.

"I'll still be friends with you if that happens." Ushijima offers him an awkward, apologetic smile.

Semi can’t help but laugh. His captain is just too much. Only with him he can feel so many emotions in a matter of seconds.

"Thanks, Wakatoshi," he chuckles.

Semi closes the distance between them with a gentle embrace. Ushijima can't help but notice how pleasant it feels--especially compared to the death hug Tendou suffocated him with. He returns the gesture by wrapping his own arms around Semi and patting his back firmly. It's something Reon does to comfort him so he figures it must also work for others. Semi’s back is curved and the positioning is pretty awkward for the both of them, but somehow it's really nice.

Semi pulls away first, leaving his hands on the other's shoulder. Ushijima drops his arms to his sides and looks up at Semi expectantly. Smiling gently, the setter brushes Ushijima's bangs aside and presses a chaste kiss to his forehead.

"Get better soon, ok?"

Ushijima nods and Semi smiles at him once more before turning to leave, shutting the door quietly as he egresses.

 

 

* * *

 

 

19:00

Shirabu props open the hallway door leading to the outside. When he steps onto the concrete pavement, he’s greeted by a gentle breeze. The sun has completely retreated behind the mountain nearby leaving Shirabu in the dimness of the waning twilight. With a food-filled tray in hand, he approaches the faint glow of nearby a vending machine. He finds it ironic that machine filled with sweets is stationed at a sports facility.

Shirabu sets his tray to the side, pulls some cash out of his jacket pocket, inserts into the machine, and punches in the desired coordinates. After making the transaction he retrieves his change and begins his wait. He rolls his tongue between his teeth, tapping his foot impatiently while he listens to the mechanical whir of the spoke, which slowly but surely turns with his beloved black liquorice. His tapping begins to match the rhythmic clicks of the machine as he watches the coil rotate at a painstaking rate. By the time the candy has reached the edge, he’s humming angrily to the improv beat. The machine gives a final clunk and the coil stops winding, leaving the bag suspended a few millimeters from the edge. Fucking unbelievable.

Shirabu kicks the vending machine, stubbing his toe in the process, and curses out loud.

He hears something plunk into the tray below between his ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’. Upon inspection he finds that red liquorice instead of black had fallen. Shirabu scowls at the machine, the bag of black licorice still tantalizingly close to the edge. He sighs. This would have to do.

After all getting worked up over an insentient object was even more humiliating than losing control because of Semi anyways. The thought of the other setter made him unreasonably angry and finds himself blaming the other for this misfortune. Though Semi wasn’t responsible for this, he certainly was for every other migraine-inducing experience he had this day. Damn him for making his day a living hell.

He at least deserves this treat for putting up with all of that. It doesn't matter if he gets lectured for this later—he's going to eat this damn liquorice and it's going to be fucking delicious.

Shirabu snatches the bag and sets it on his tray then begins his trek  to the secluded table he was invited—bludgeoned—by Tendou to eat at.

Why his teammates decided to sit away from everyone else, in a darkened area nonetheless, was a mystery to him. Tendou claimed it was a “starters” club even though Semi was to be present as well. The blocker had dismissed the contradiction by labeling Semi as an “honorary exception” by which he really meant “a preferred target of his antics”. Shirabu wasn’t about to question his ways and become the new setter for him to toy with.

A nearby lamppost flickers to life and navigating the area becomes much easier. At least something went right today. Trying to keep up his slight optimism, Shirabu notices that the evening is rather nice for the summer—the temperature is just right and the cicadas have finally shut the hell up.

 

He approaches the reserved wooden table planted nearby a tree. There’s another lamppost near it that shrouds the area in a soft light, allowing Shirabu to observe the scene from a small distance. Ushijima looks much healthier, the food he’s shoveling into his mouth evidence of his recovery. Shirabu can tell by the bowls stacked on his tray that Ushijima has already consumed several helpings of the main course and he almost smiles at his attempt to regain his lost nutrition. For a second he considers returning to the vending machine and purchasing a treat for his captain, but the agitated growl that his stomach emits demands that he sit down and eat something already dammit.

Tendou spots Shirabu staring off into space and calls out to him. The setter snaps out of his daze and makes his way to the table’s edge. When he’s about a meter away, Tendou leans over Kawanishi, who remains undisturbed by weight on his back, and points at the empty portion of the wooden bench. “Your seat is right here Kenji-kun.”

“Na,” Kawanishi interjects with a mouth full of rice. “Ya sittin’ righ ‘ere.” He scoots himself out from under Tendou’s arm and to the edge of the bench while taking his meal with him. “Ya can ory deal wiv dat for so lon’.” He points his thumb that the now highly offended Tendou.

“And I think you’re a great pal too, Taichi,” the other huffs back while dramatically turning away from the blond.

Shirabu doesn’t bother to comment on Kawanishi’s crude manners; he’s learned that there’s nothing anyone can really do about them and that it was best to let him be  _him_. Whatever that was.

With a sigh, he plops down between Kawanishi and Tendou. And right across from Semi Eita. He feels his stomach sink along with his appetite and wonders why the world is working against him today. Averting his eyes as swiftly as he can, Shirabu finds solace in strong jawline of his captain. Maybe it was the lighting, but Ushijima looked more impressive than ever. Almost too impressive.

Shirabu inspects his captain’s countenance further and discovers that he’s glaring at his food. It’s odd given that he was just stuffing his meal down his throat.  And knowing how much he could eat, Shirabu knew he was far from being full. The more he thought about it, the more alarmed he became. Was he on the brink of violently hurling again?

Reon thoughts are almost exactly the same.

“Wakatoshi are you alright?” He nudges Ushijima in the side. No response.

Shirabu’s fears surge as he watches Reon’s expression morph from concerned to panicked. Ushijima always responded to Reon. Something was very wrong.

“Wakatoshi?”

Reon reaches out his arm to clasp the ace’s shoulder, but completely misses when Ushijima suddenly slumps forward into his soup bowl. Silence envelops the table as his teammates turn their attention to the limp body, mortified. The stillness is soon broken by the muffled snores of the Shiratorizawa captain. The broth bubbles comically with the rise and fall of his shoulders.

Reon gives Ushijima a quick shake. The ace snorts and jolts back up. Broth trickles down his face and bits of vegetables are stuck on his upper lips and nose. More silence.

Tendou suddenly bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that startles his teammates. After he regains his composure, he gleams mischievously at Ushijima. "That's one heck of a  _soupstache_  ya got there!"  Grinning ear to ear, he looks from player to player savoring their looks of irritation and disappointment, reading their expressions like books.

Reon's wide eyes and taught mouth say  _now is not the time._

Semi's bulging eyes, veins and bared teeth scream  _not now not ever._

And the cherry on top of their delicious visages are their moans and groans of utter delight.

" _Tendou Satori_."

"For fucks sake."

"I'm leaving."

Kawanishi stands up abruptly with his tray in one hand. As he takes his leave, he snatches Shirabu’s bag of liquorice. He’s only a few steps away when Shirabu snaps his attention onto him.

"Hey you can't take that! I paid for that!"

Kawanishi stops and looks solemnly at the other. “Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me, give it back!”

Kawanishi doesn’t bother to move away from or towards Shirabu. Patience wearing thin, Shirabu rises from the table and marches up to the other. He then proceeds to grab at the bag of candy, unsuccessful in retrieving it every time due to Kawanishi’s height and surprising evasiveness.

“Isn’t anyone going to help me?” he manages to huff out between jumps.

“I thought the well-being of your precious captain came first Shirabu, or should I say Shirabitch?" Semi answers him bitterly, clearly fed up with his team’s shenanigans for the day.

“You—! You have no Idea what I went through to get that!"

"It's not like you should be eating that kind of stuff anyways." Semi aggressively chomps on the piece of beef, seemingly for the dramatic effect and it pisses of Shirabu to no end.

"Really? Like I don't know. At this point I don't really care about that or what you have to say anyways. You're always on my ass about the slightest thing. Do you get off on ordering people around all the time?"

Reon attempts to intervene. "Shirabu—"

"Not liking my advice doesn't excuse your piss-poor attitude you little brat." Semi points his chopsticks at the younger setter and swallows the piece of meat. "You really should be grateful for it since the only reason you're even on this team is that you're a complete suck-up to Wakatoshi."

Shirabu's jaw drops. Goshiki slinks as low as he can in his seat while the rest of the team sits frozen in place too stunned to continue eating. The exception, Kawanishi, pops a piece of liquorice into his mouth.

Something snaps inside the setter and Shirabu grabs a fistful of the beef and rice from his bowl and chucks it at Semi. It hits him square in the chest with a juicy splat, some of the chunks of beef bouncing off and onto Ushijima and Goshiki while the other bits slide down his shirt with the rest of the meal. Semi is speechless. Even Tendou doesn’t know what to say.

Alarm suddenly rushes through Shirabu. The corners of his mouth begin to twitch as the magnitude of his actions sink in. He feels time slowing down as he takes in the slack jaws and wide eyes boring into him. He sure fucked up this time.

Semi springs up from his seat. Foregoing any ounce of restraint, he grabs the nearest bowl (Ushijima’s) and hurls its contents across the table. The hot soup douses Shirabu completely while also splattering the area in front of him. By some miracle the broth manages not to land on anyone else.

Shirabu shrieks from the sudden sear and jerks backwards, completely losing his balance and falling off the bench and onto his back. The second he opens eyes he sees Semi hovering over him with a murderous expression. Shirabu kicks at the bench to push himself away from the other, but Semi pounces on him in an instant and his hands go straight for his neck.

"EIIIIIITAAAAAA."

Tendou hooks his arms under Eita's pits and pulls with all might. Yamagata joins in too by trying to pry Semi’s fingers off the younger boy’s throat.

“Come on now!”

Kawanishi stands amused by the spectacle before him. He sets the soup bowl and liquorice back on the table, slinks his hand into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and snaps several pictures.

The fight comes to an abrupt stop when they hear a door burst open and their coach’s booming roar.

"PUT A SOCK IN IT YOU BRATS AND KEEP IT DOWN!!!"

He then violently slams the door shut leaving the others to silently reflect on their actions and the consequences that would soon follow.

 

Before Shirabu or Semi have time to rise to their feet, Reon is at their side, smiling. “Showers, now. If the two of you can’t figure things out yourselves, believe me I will.” His words are far more threatening and unnerving than Washijou’s for the two to even think about arguing.

“Yes, Reon.”

“Yes, Oohira-san.”

“Not a word of this leaves here, alright.” Reon turns his head to look at the others with the same frigid smile. He doesn't need verbal affirmation—the fear in his teammates' eyes tells him that this will never be spoken of again under any circumstances.

“Kawanishi. You’re not off the hook.” The middle blocker shivers at the sound of his name. He slowly turns around and his eyes meet Reon’s. In his irises, Kawanishi sees himself burning amongst the brown speckles and he swallows hard.

Reon gauges his junior’s fear and decides on a less extreme punishment. “Clean up this mess.”

Kawanishi doesn’t need to be told twice. “Yes, Oohira-san.”

“I should go too.” Ushijima looks almost apologetic for stains on his shirt and Reon feels his rage dissipating.

“No it’s best we leave those two alone,” Reon says softly while offering a slight smile. He walks over to the other and lightly pats his back.

“I’ll get some napkins.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

21:00

Ushijima lies on his back, arms crossed and over his stomach.  It’s lights out in an hour—plenty of time to reflect over the events of today in the comfort of his futon.  He starts with the new drills he learned and then starts formulating a new regiment he can use to make up for today’s losses. He’s about halfway through the second phase of his workout when Yamagata interrupts his train of thought.

"Oh there it is!" He holds up a small black phone with a Hello Kitty charm dangling from it. "It was in my pillow case the entire time." He continues to talk even though no one is really listening to him. "Forgot I put it there." Whistling a happy tune, he quickly checks his phone before stashing it right back into the same place. He’ll be sure to remember where it is tomorrow.

Ushijima’s glad at least one person resolved their problems today since for everyone else, it has been the worst. The absolute worst. It was worse than any other day training camp he had been too and that includes the one where he had to run five miles after being up for 32 hours straight.

He hasn’t seen Shirabu or Semi exchange a word since the incident. They don’t even glare at or give rude gestures to each other like they usually do. Ushijima believes they’re too fearful right now to do so.  Even then, they shouldn’t fight like that ever again, especially since Reon said so. None of this will ever happen again.

The corners of Ushijima's mouth twitch upwards. His expression must be horrifying, given Shibata's cries upon seeing him while making his way to his futon, but he doesn't care.

There's nothing more to worry about. He has been through sleep deprivation, injuries, fighting, food poisoning, a food fight, and Tendou all in one day. It's impossible for training camp to get worse than this. He'll never be put on a physically and emotionally exhausting rollercoaster like this ever again. A bizarre sense of peace settles over Ushijima as he ascends to a faux-Nirvana state. After this training camps ends, Ushijima will no longer have a worry in the world.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m aware that Ushijima has the smile of an angel, but don’t forget that when he’s excited it morphs into [this](http://36.media.tumblr.com/e5f05f43df21d63dfbdd2b018e1dfbb5/tumblr_nyv45lGj101rtvv93o1_400.png) monstrosity.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Ushijima's sickness was based off a combination of my own experiences. Please be cautious when eating eggs. If it tastes even a little weird, just spit the thing out it will save you 4 hours of agony. And don't eat anything 30 min before running. Not even half a protein bar.


End file.
